


Encore

by BarPurple



Series: Moving On [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, Tags to be added as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-10-29 06:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10848792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: Two years ago Rumplestiltskin left Storybrooke behind him and tried to make a life for himself in the World without Magic. Unfortunately Storybrooke hadn't finished with him; his past is about to come looking for him and the story that he thought he knew isn't as true as he believed.





	1. Chapter 1

“Barney! Please tell me everything is on the order this time?”

The man known in Aberdeen, South Dakota, as Barney Calhoun limped out from the stockroom of Book Bounty. His driving license stated his height as 5 foot 9 inches, but he looked shorter because he tended to stoop as he leaned heavily on the crutch in his right hand. The other information on his license was as misleading, his eyes were brown, but looked darker behind his blue tinted glasses, his age was listed as fifty-five, but his shaggy grey collar length hair and full beard added years. The energy he moved and worked with took those years off him and when he could be persuaded to smile he looked younger still. A wide smile was spread across his face now and he looked positively impish. 

“Everything is here Cheryl, including the datebooks and calendars.”

He chuckled as his boss jumped up and down like an excited cheerleader. The start of term was only a week away and thanks to a botched delivery they were cutting it close to be ready. She bounced towards him and enthusiastically hugged him, almost tipping him off balance. He rocked on his heels and managed to keep them both upright.

“What would I do without you Barn?”

“Spend a fortune on phone calls and cry a lot.”

“True, I still don’t know how you got them to make a special delivery.”

Barney winked at her and tapped a finger against his nose, “Magic, dearie.”

She laughed at him and rushed away to help a customer. Barney tried to ignore the slight shiver that ran down his spine, he wasn’t sure why he’d said that to Cheryl, of course he hadn’t used magic, just a few choice legal phrases and a tone of voice that couldn’t be argued with. His phrasing had just been one of those odd little things, nothing more. Since the books weren’t going to unpack themselves Barney went back to work, but the odd feeling of foreboding lingered with him.

Cheryl shooed him out of the door at noon. 

“Go! It’s supposed to be your day off! You’re making me feel like a slave driver.”

He was more years than he cared to count her senior, but Cheryl mothered him like an over grown chick. She had done since the day a year ago when he’d limped out of the pouring rain into her shop to inquire about a job. He’d never intended to stay for long, but he was still here and Cheryl had become his friend as well as his boss, which is why he felt so comfortable teasing her a little.

“I could go home and relax, or I could stay and do the accounts for you.”

He kept his face neutral, but he knew he’d get his own way; Cheryl’s math was awful, and he’d much rather be working than killing time in his empty apartment. A little smirk tugged at his lips when she raised her hands in defeat.

“Fine, but take a long lunch first please?”

He tipped her a little salute, “I won’t be back until two.”

The second he stepped outside he focused his attention on the sidewalk, Fall hadn’t started in earnest yet, but there were enough leaves on the rain slicked ground to be troublesome for his crutch. A flash of yellow in the corner of his eye made him turn his head. He frowned when he could find nothing to explain it, there were a few cars parked on the street but none of them were yellow. He huddled deeper into the hood of his parker and headed for his favourite café. He was well down the street before the shadows in one of the parked cars shifted and a blonde head turned to follow his progress.

 

Barney took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. When he put them back on the figures still made little to no sense, he had to get Cheryl to update to computer accounts, or at least talk her into taking a hand writing course. He pushed himself up from his chair and grabbed his crutch to go and ask her if the problematic squiggle was a seven or a two. He was halfway across the office when Cheryl called his name.

“Barney, could you come and take a look at this book please?”

A shiver trickled down his spine. He limped out into the store trying to ignore the odd sensation of dread in his stomach. Cheryl was by the counter, chatting with a blonde woman in a red leather jacket. The customer had her back to him, but the sight of her caused his step faltered; he managed to cover his near-stumble well enough that no one appeared to notice.

“He’ll be able to help; Barney is an absolute treasure, worth his weight in gold. There you are. This lovely lady has a book she’d like appraised.”

He was ready when the woman turned around, not a single muscle on his face twitched. After singing his praises Cheryl bustled off to the American Literature section, where a soon-to-be student was having a small breakdown over their booklist. Barney schooled his features into a polite customer friendly mask and nodded a greeting to the woman.

“May I see the book?”

He held his hand out and avoided looking directly at her. He could feel her questioning stare on him, but he kept his own eyes down. With a small huff she put the heavy odd sized book into his hand.

“My mom found it in her closet. It’s a bit of a mystery really, she has no idea how it got there.”

Barney placed the book on the counter and traced a single finger over the embossed title.

“Once upon a Time. May I assume a book of classic fairy tales?”

The customer snorted; “Not the classics most people know. Take a look.”

There was a hint of an order in her tone, an enticing eagerness to reveal something of importance. Barney flipped the book open, but only to the front page to check for a publishing date; there wasn’t one.

“I think this is a prop from a theatre company, or a low budget television show. No publisher’s details, you see,” He tapped his finger on the blank first page, “This sort of thing is impossible to value unless you know its history. I could look into it for you, but I fear that would cost more than the book is worth.”

He was subjected to another hard stare from the woman; finally she shrugged and picked the book up. 

“Well, it was worth a shot. Thank you, Barney, was it?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

She offered him her right hand to shake Barney griped his crutch tight and jerked his head toward it, that was normally enough to put people off, and it worked this time too. She withdrew her hand with a tight nod.

“Right, thanks anyway.”

She left the shop, and Barney counted to twenty before he shuddered and ran a shaking hand over his face. 

“Cheryl?” His voice came out as a dry croak and he had to swallow hard to try again, “Cheryl?”

He fought for control of his rattled emotions and had almost got a grip on himself by time his friend appeared by his side. She took one look at his ashen face and put a reassuring hand on his arm.

“You look awful. Is your leg acting up?”

He nodded, it was an easy excuse to latch onto.

“Well, there’s a storm coming.”

Barney gave a weak laugh, Cheryl was convinced his crippled leg could predict the weather. She clucked at him.

“You get yourself home and take some pain pills. Do you want me to call you a cab?”

“No, it’ll only set stiff if I get in a car.”

“Text me when you get home, and I’ll see you tomorrow only if you feel up to it.”

It wouldn’t occur to him until much later that Cheryl’s prediction of a coming storm could refer to more than just the weather.

 

Barney was halfway back to his apartment when the sick feeling of foreboding gripped him again. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the sound of shuffling from the alley mouth behind him. He slowed to a stop and waited for the inevitable, hoping against hope that he was about to be mugged. 

“Rumplestiltskin.”

The knuckles of his right hand cracked against the handle of his crutch as his grip tightened. He closed his eyes and sighed, then slowly turned on his heel to face the source of the voice. He knew who would be standing there, but he had to open his eyes to confirm it, and he didn’t want to do that, didn’t want to make it true be observing the blast from his past. After several long moments the temptation became too great; he opened his eyes and confirmed his fears.

“I haven’t used that name in a long time, but you probably know that,” he paused for a beat, “Emma Swan.”

Emma threw her hands in the air and gave a sigh that was two parts frustration and one part relief. He found the gesture oddly over dramatic.

“You do remember! I was worried I was going to have to slip you a memory potion.”

He scowled at her; “I don’t need a memory potion Miss Swan. I remember everything, which is why I’m a mite puzzled by your presence here.”

Emma opened her mouth to explain, but he held up his hand and interrupted her; “Actually I don’t care. I left Storybrooke behind me two years ago. What you, or anyone, from that town does is no concern of mine. Goodbye Miss Swan.”

He turned away, but before he could take a step Emma called out; “Belle needs you.”

He spun around and closed the gap between them with three fast strides his crutch ringing harshly on the sidewalk with each step. Emma held her ground as he leaned into her face and softly snarled; “She made it abundantly clear that she did not need me, or want me. So why don’t you follow her lead and leave me alone.”

Emma sighed; “You had to make this difficult didn’t you?”

She puffed a handful of dust into his face. The last thing Rumplestiltskin knew was the scent of poppy.


	2. Chapter 2

Poppies were in bloom around his feet, the scent of them strong in the air. Rumple frowned and then remembered. 

“I’m asleep, a poppy induced sleep.”

Knowing that this was a dream did nothing to stop the sick fear rising in his stomach as the landscape around him shifted and became a maze more terrifying than the one in Wonderland. The only advantage of this being a dream was that his ankle was whole, so Rumple did the only thing sensible thing under the circumstances; he ran. The cloaked figure of Morpheus laughed at him from the shadows of the twisted hedges; Baelfire and Belle turned their backs on him every time he came close to them; Cheryl reached for his hand only to be pulled away by the hedges; the cries of a new born haunted his every move, but he couldn’t find the child. Tears were pouring down his face as he reached the centre of the maze and fell forward into the dirt.

“Rumplestiltskin.”

In his distress he didn’t instantly recognize the voice that spoke his name, but the hands that reached for him were immediately identifiable, he scrambled away from palms with eyeballs set in their centres. 

“No, please, no more fortune telling.”

The Blind Seer sadly shook her head and raised her hands, Rumple cringed as the eyes fixed him with their gaze and she spoke in a voice than rang with foresight; “The wife needs a husband, the child a father, and the town a hero.”

Exhaustion washed over Rumple, he pushed himself to his knees and asked with a sigh; “Who is this message for?”

The Seer lowered her hands in confusion.

“This is your future.”

He scrubbed a hand across his face in frustration.

“Then why not say Belle needs me to be her husband? Why not say mine and Belle’s child needs me to be its father? Why must visions be shrouded in mystery?”

“Because that is how it is done! You know this!”

She was growing so annoyed that he almost expected her to stamp her foot. Rumple could understand that, and thinking about it this was his dream, so she was embodying his frustrated hopes and dashed dreams. Anger grew in his chest. He had worked his way through these feelings over the past two years; he’d made friends and a life for himself without magic, and without the looming demons of his past, he’d tried so bloody hard to put it all behind him. Rage drove him to his feet. He turned his back on the Seer and stomped away back into the maze cursing Emma Swan and poppy dust under his breath. Over his mumbled tirade he heard the Seer call; “My words are truth Rumplestiltskin. You will see that when you wake up!”

The maze closed in around him, its twisted branches snagging his clothing; something grabbed his shoulder and shook him hard.

“Hey! Wake up!”

Rumple slapped at the unseen hand and jerked upright almost banging his head on the low curving roof.

“Woah! Steady! You were dreaming. Just try to chill until I’ve parked the car.”

He gave Emma a withering stare and realised too late that his face was soaked with tears. She was too busy concentrating on parking safely to notice him dry his face on his sleeve. Once he was composed he noticed he was in the passenger seat of a very familiar VW Bug and that the sun was almost rising.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Almost fourteen hours. We’re nearly home, bit of imported magic cut the travel time in half.”

Rumple rubbed at his bleary eyes and finally noticed the leather cuff around his left wrist. He chose to hold his tongue on that front until they were stationary; he had no desire to die in this rusty yellow death trap. The moment the car was parked Emma twisted in her seat to stare at him.

“Are you calm now? You were thrashing around so much I nearly crashed.”

He rolled his eyes at her.

“Perhaps you should have considered the consequences of drugging and kidnapping me,” He pulled his left sleeve back and waved the magic suppressing cuff in her face, “I see you did take some precautions.”

He dug his fingernails under the leather and ripped the cuff from his wrist, taking great delight in her stunned expression.

“Pointless precautions, but you tried, dearie.”

“How did you do that?”

Her head turned and followed the cuff as he casually tossed it into the back seat, which meant she failed to notice him snag the kegs from the ignition.

“That only works on magic users. I’ve been on the wagon for two years Miss Swan, in the Land without Magic.”

She appeared uneasy, as if she was still expecting him to smoke himself away, or throw a fireball at her. Rumple folded his hands in his lap, hiding the pilfered car keys from her behind a convenient non-threatening pose and waited for her to say what was on her mind.

“Regina thought you might have severed yourself from the Dagger, but she couldn’t work out how you’d done that without the Sorcerer’s Hat.”

She paused; waiting for him to provide an answer, but he let her hope fall into a stony silence. He wasn’t about to tell her that he was still linked to the Dagger, or that he would have access to all the powers of the Dark One again if he crossed the town line. The idea of having magic again made his stomach turn, and he wasn’t going to tell her that either. When she realized that she wasn’t going to get an explanation from him Emma blew out a breath and nodded towards the diner.

“Are you hungry?”

Rumple was certain that he wouldn’t be able to eat a bite, and he’d be a monkey’s uncle if he trusted any food or drink Emma offered him, but he gave an indifferent shrug and reached for the door handle.

“Did you kidnap my crutch as well?”

He was banking on the small distraction that pulling his crutch from the backseat caused and the fact she had never locked the Bug in Storybrooke to keep her from noticing the car keys were now in his possession. He hadn’t driven a car in a year and a half, but he had no intention of going any further with Emma Swan, and he wasn’t above legging it out of a bathroom window if needs must, no matter how clumsy and undignified that would be. Of course he should have remembered what he had told countless desperate souls over the long years: intention is meaningless.

Crossing the parking lot was difficult for Rumple, his limbs were stiff from being cramped in the passenger seat of the Bug and the broken asphalt doing nothing to help his gait. It wasn’t until they were almost at the door that he realised he knew this place. He’d limped in here and spent a few precious dollars on a mediocre cup of coffee after he’d been banished. They were only a mile and a half outside of Storybrooke. Emma noticed his hesitation and hurried by him to hold open the door. He walked inside as steadily as he could, desperately trying to ignore the painful memories that were threatening to overwhelm him.

They took a booth in the middle of the near empty diner. Emma picked up a menu, but the gesture was only for show, she was too busy looking at him getting himself and his crutch settled on the bench seat to spare a glance at the greasy card in her hands.

“I never thought I’d ever see you in jeans and a button down, and what’s with the face floof?”

He resisted the urge to rub his hand over his beard, he liked his beard, instead he gave her a fake grin and asked; “Did you really drug and kidnap me to criticize my wardrobe? Because if that was all you wanted I can find a bus stop to get home from here.”

The waitress had finally graced them with her half-hearted service. Without asking him Emma ordered them both a large coffee, and implied that they might order food after that when the waitress huffed at them. They sat in silence until their drinks arrived and only when the waitress had ambled back over to the counter did Emma lean forward and in hushed tones said; “I need you to listen to everything I have to tell you before you fly off the handle, okay?”

Again he answered with a shrug, but this time Emma would not accept his indifference.

“This is important. I need you word, Gold.”

The use of his Curse name made him bristle. He’d not felt attached to that since the First Curse broke, even though people had still used it. He had not used it at all since he sold the Cadillac in a tiny town in Florida a few months after he’d left Storybrooke and had finally decided that the car was to ease to trace. Now he was faced with it again he realised how much he loathed the moniker Regina had saddled him with.

“Don’t call me that, don’t call me Gold. If you can’t manage my real name call me Barney, or Calhoun.”

Emma snorted and that told him all he needed to know about her thoughts on the name he had chosen for himself. He fiddled with his coffee cup, he wasn’t going to take criticism from someone who had picked Swan as a second name.

“Okay ‘Calhoun’ I need your word that you won’t lose your temper until I’ve told you everything.”

“You have it.”

It really didn’t matter. Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t break a deal, even one so hastily made, but Barney Calhoun could do as he damn well pleased; people never understood the power of names.

Emma was happy enough with his given word and only took a quick sip of terrible coffee before she blurted out the reason for his kidnap.

“We got Belle out Pandora’s Box seven months ago.”

She’d asked him to wait until she had said her piece, but she still paused and looked at him for a reaction. When none came she continued with a tale of a fake Belle bamboozling them all with a memory potion for a year after he left, until they finally put the pieces together and realized that Hades had a back-up plan to make good on the contract for his second born. Emma spoke of the heroes battling against the hell spawned doppelganger and finally freeing Belle from the prison of Pandora’s Box where she had been since he had told her of her pregnancy in the Underworld; then came the explanation of how they had had to employ magic and bail bonds tricks to track him down; all while Belle was franticly dealing with her pregnancy on her own. 

“Whale has put her on bedrest; she’s sworn she isn’t going to give birth until we find you, even if that means putting herself under a sleeping curse for real. It took us ages to track you. I see where Neal got his sneaky skills from now.”

Rumple wanted to slap her for so casually dropping his son’s name, but he was reeling from the bombshell that the woman he’d argued with so bitterly, the woman who had stabbed his every weakness, the woman who he had been a beast to, the woman he had hurt in so many ways before he left Storybrooke, was not in fact his wife. The few sips of coffee he had dared to take rebelled and he lurched from the booth, his crutch forgotten as he staggered toward the restroom. He dimly heard Emma shout his name, but he ignored it as he crashed through the door and vomited into the nearest sink.

He was rinsing the bile from his mouth and beard when there was a knock at the door.

“You okay in there?”

“Just fucking peachy.”

His sarcastic response wasn’t loud enough to carry through the door, but his haggard reflection smirked at him. Gods, when had he ever looked this old? Emma hammered on the door again, he coughed and spat into the sink before he shouted; “I’m fine! I’ll be out in a moment!”

He splashed more water on his face. Confused thoughts were screaming in his mind; Belle was about to give birth, he could be back in time to see his child born, he could be a husband and a father again. He stared at his reflection and asked himself if he wanted any of that? Could he put aside the pain and heartbreak of the last few years and be the man his wife and child needed him to be? 

“Bollocks!”

He was going back to Storybrooke, because he had to know the truth, because he couldn’t walk away from the potential family waiting for him in that bloody cursed little town. He dried his face and hands and stepped out into the diner, ready to go back to his old life, but not before he had reassured someone from his current one. 

“Do you have my cell phone?”

Emma shifted in her seat and looked guiltily at him

“I switched it off. Someone kept calling you.”

That would be Cheryl, her concern for him made him smile; “Yes, so give me my phone.”

Emma sighed and pulled his phone and a folded piece of paper from her pocket; “Look, I dropped back into the book shop after I loaded you into the car and gave the owner one of these.”

Rumple picked up the A4 sheet and his heart sank, there in grainy photocopy was his face, with and without a beard, and four of the nine names he’d gone by in the last two years in the ‘also known as’ section. The damning word ‘Wanted’ splashed across the top in bold type.

“Grand Theft Auto! That’s what you are arresting me for?”

Emma shrugged unashamed; “The Caddy was created by the Curse, so technically it belonged to Regina.”

He grabbed his phone and switched it on. It beeped a dozen times, all messages from Cheryl. Very calmly he picked up his crutch and made towards the door, Emma’s arm barred his way. The cold tilt of his head would have made the residents of Storybrooke shiver, but Emma’s arm still blocked his way.

“I’m going to make my one phone call. I’ll meet you by the car.”

To her credit Emma didn’t follow him, he limped across the parking lot listening to Cheryl’s increasingly worried voicemails. What sort of ‘Saviour’ tried to burn someone’s bridges like this? Had it been anyone but Cheryl he wouldn’t have even made this phone call, but she was his friend and she deserved better than the lies Emma had given her, not that he could tell her the truth, but at least he could try and put her mind at ease. The phone rang once before it was answered.

“Barney? Is that you? Are you alright?”

“Hello Cheryl, it’s me, I’m okay, but I don’t have a lot of time to talk.”

He heard her take a breath and in his mind’s eye could see her lips form into a determined line.

“What do you need Barney?”

“At the moment, nothing. It’s a mix up from a long time ago that I can sort out once I get to Maine. I’m not a thief.”

“Oh Barney, as if you even needed to say that. I know you.”

His eyes closed at that point, wishing it was true, wishing he deserved the faith his friend put in him.

“Thank you Cheryl. I don’t know how long this is going to take…”

“You take as long as you need Barn. Just keep in touch yeah? I’ve got that Emma Swan’s number and if you drop of the face of the earth I will high-tail it to Maine and raise hell until I find you.”

He glanced at the number on the flyer in his hand, if memory served it was the direct line for the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Office. He couldn’t help but wonder how annoyed Cheryl would make whoever was manning that phone if she felt the need to call.

“I’ll keep in touch Cheryl. I promise.”

“You look after yourself Barney. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Bye Cheryl.”

He ended the call and squeezed the phone in his hand before tucking it safely away. Emma was striding across the parking lot towards him. He fished the Bug’s keys from his pocket and waved them at her.

“I’m driving. And yes Baelfire got his sneaky skills from me.”


	3. Chapter 3

Emma was quiet for the short drive to Stroybrooke, she kept glancing at Gold; she couldn’t think of him as Barney Calhoun it was just too strange. She was trying to gauge his mood. His jaw was tense, but there was no other sign of stress about him. He had to be feeling something, didn’t he? The Gold she knew always wore his heart on his sleeve when it came to Belle, but she had to face facts that this wasn’t the Gold she had known. Two years could change a person, maybe he’d discovered yoga or meditation because she couldn’t believe he was this chilled out and not speeding to get back to Belle.

Rumple was running through everything he’d put in place two years ago. The spells he’d extracted and improved from the magic suppression cuff should remain in place and make it impossible for the Dagger to be used to control him. The cloaking spell that prevented him from being tracked with magic should still hold, but possibly had already been broken considering that Emma had managed to find him. His biggest worry at the moment was how he would react to the magic returning to him. He remembered all too well the surge of power that had washed over him when Cruella and Ursula had let him back into town; that heady feeling of invincibility was a temptation he didn’t want to face again. The town line came into view; he slowed the car to a stop and stared at the splash of bright orange paint on the asphalt. Belle and his unborn child were over that line, Belle who apparently wanted him in her life again. He had no choice he was going to have to face magic.

Emma clucked her tongue impatiently; “What’s the hold-up?”

Rumple sighed and decided it wasn’t worth trying to explain his anxiety, she wouldn’t understand, or care.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen when I cross the line.”

She twisted to face him, “You’ll get your magic back?”

He nodded. 

“Okay, so get on with it.”

He gave her a surprised look; he couldn’t really believe that Emma Swan was keen for him to have access to the powers of the Dark One again. It made him suspicious as to where the Dagger was at the moment; was she being so blasé because she was expecting to be able to keep him on a leash? He fingers were twitching against her leg and it dawned on him, she was more concerned about getting full access to her own powers again, how times had changed; Emma Swan keen to get back to her magic and him terrified of dealing with his own.

“Come on Gold, how bad can it be?”

He’d been trying not to think about that; if he’d miscalculated on his spell work he might explode as he re-entered town; the power could wipe his memories leaving them dealing with a crazed Dark One; the magic might punish him and reset his memories leaving him as a very confused cowardly spinner. Those were some of the gentler worst case scenarios that his nervousness had come up with on the spot. This was the problem with trying untested magic; anything could happen and in his experience the worst case was impossible to predict. Emma was getting annoyed and leaned over as if to push his leg onto the pedal, if he wanted to do this on his own terms it was now or never.

“Let’s find out.”

He stomped the gas and the Bug rocketed forward. Emma swore and braced herself as best she could. They reached the line in seconds, the engine screamed as the Bug met an impossible resistance. Gold’s eyes were closed, but Emma saw the barrier turned a ruddy-gold as it was breached. The Bug careened into Storybrooke, swerving wildly as Gold screamed, his body arching as if he’d been electrocuted; magic flashed around him, creating a strobe effect that made Emma certain that he’d turned back into the sparkly lizard-man he’d been in the enchanted Forest for a second, while the very next instant he looked like the suited and booted Gold she had first met. As his scream of pain died they rolled to a halt and all became quiet apart from her panicked breathing.

The Bug had stopped sideways in the middle of the road, the barrier was still shimmering, but looked to be settling back down to its invisible state; hopefully any outsider who had witnessed that display would think they had seen some fireworks, or aliens. Beside her Gold was whimpering as he gripped his head in his hands.

“No, no, no, please no.”

There was another ripple of magic from him and he sat back with a gasp. Emma frowned at the sight of the bearded man she had picked up in South Dakota; she’d expected him to look like Mister Gold now they were back. Her cell blared into life and she scrambled to free it from her pocket, tuning out Gold’s muttering as her Dad’s voice shouted in her ear.

“Emma! Please tell me that firework show was Gold arriving.”

“Yeah, we’re back he’s right here…”

Next to her Gold’s head snapped up. He vanished in a swirl of smoke. Emma rolled her eyes; “I guess he’s with you now?”

“What? No. Where’s he gone?”

“I don’t know he just smoked away. He’s got to still be in town. Get Regina to check the cabin and his house. I’ll check the pawnshop and the library.”

Emma growled under her breath, this couldn’t have been easy could it? She snatched the keys from the ignition, and then teleported herself into the pawnshop. 

 

In the hospital waiting room David sighed as he sent a rapid text to Regina and alerted Snow and Killian to be on the lookout for Gold just in case. He brightened up as he caught sight of Archie making his way from Belle’s room.

“Is he back?”

David nodded, “Yes, but he’s gone AWOL,” He nodded his head toward Belle’s room, “How’s she holding up?”

Archie pushed his glasses up his nose and shrugged; “She threatened Nurse Ratched with Grumpy’s pick axe. Whale says her contractions are progressing, it’s not going to be long now. We need to get Rumple here.”

“Regina and Emma are checking his old haunts, but you know what he’s like, if he doesn’t want to be found. Is Henry with her?”

“No, he had to run an errand. Grumpy and Nova are in there.”

Charming and Archie shared a smile. Henry had slipped out just after the lightshow in the sky that marked Rumple’s return, if neither of his mothers found the wily sorcerer then Henry would be sure to.

 

Rumple landed by the Wishing Well disgusted with himself at how easily he had given into the urge to teleport. He’d fought the desire to alter his appearance, but only just, he didn’t want any outward sign that he was Rumplestiltskin again, it was probably a pointless distinction, but he felt that if he could hold on to his current appearance then he could resist the temptation. The magic was there lurking like an over eager restaurant server, desperate to be as helpful as possible to earn a really good tip. The only saving grace was that it was just a feeling, an awareness of the magic, not a hallucination of a former Dark One tempting, teasing and taunting him into fully embracing the power again; he really didn’t think he could cope with a vision of Emma or Hook in a diner uniform. Rumple chuckled out loud at the thought, and wondered if the magic had sent him a little crazy after all.

“Grandfather?”

He turned around slowly at the sound of the voice he almost recognized, not wanting to reveal that his ankle was still crippled until he’d seen if it belonged to friend or foe. (Oh that would be a good used of magic wouldn’t it? That simple spell he’d used so often to take away the pain and enable him to walk without a limp) – he rapidly shook his head to dislodge the thought and looked carefully at the figure making its way out of undergrowth.

“Henry?”

The lad had grown at least half a foot, his hair was longer and there was a shadow of a first moustache on his top lip. Rumple limped forward and hugged one of the very few people he had missed.

“I’m so glad you are back, Grandfather.”

Rumple stepped back and leaned against the well. He took a moment to marvel at how much Henry took after Bae in looks before he asked the easiest of the questions demanding answers in his mind.

“How did you know to find me here?”

Henry shrugged; “This is where magic comes back.”

The lad was smart in any realm. He was now rummaging in his back pack.

“Belle asked me to make sure you got this ASAP.”

The Dagger of the Dark One glinted in the weak light as it lay on the flat of Henry’s palm. Rumple could feel it singing to him softly calling him to take back what had been his for so very long. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and sighed as the persistent pestering of the magic faded to a background hum. 

“Thank you Henry,” He busied himself with tucking the Dagger away in one of his inside pockets, “How…how is Belle?”

“In labour, and probably screaming the hospital down.”

Rumple’s head jerked up so fast he felt his neck crack, “She…she’s giving birth? Now?”

“Yeah. Contractions started about fifteen hours ago. I’ve been taking turns holding her hand with Leroy and Astrid.”

Henry rocked on his heels as Rumple raked his hand through his hair and tugged at his beard. He’d expected him to poof away to Belle’s side, but he was dithering.

“Look, I know this must have come as a shock to you, but this is the real Belle, who is about to deliver your child.”

Still Rumple didn’t magic himself away; Henry sighed and pulled a notebook and the Quill from his pocket.

“I have no problem in writing you to the hospital if you won’t go on your own.”

Rumple gave him a panic-stricken look.

“There’s so much that happened that we need to fix, if we even can…”

“I know, but right now that is going to have to wait until your child is born.”

Henry dropped his Author’s tools back into his pocket and took his Grandfather’s arm. 

“Come on, you got this.”

Rumple swallowed hard and nodded. The smoke wrapped around them and Rumple pushed his doubts and fears to one side to concentrate on getting to Belle. Henry held him upright as they landed in a hospital room where Belle was screaming his name at the top of her lungs as a contraction wracked her body. On one side of her Astrid trying to get her to focus on her breathing, on the other Leroy was muttering encouragement through gritted teeth as Belle crushed his hand. Rumple finally found his voice as she slumped back against the pillows.

“Belle?”

“Rumple?”

She tried to sit up, her arms open wide in an invitation he never thought he would receive again. Leroy was massaging life back into his hand as he said; “Oh thank the gods!”

The dwarf got out of the way as Rumple staggered into Belle’s open arms. Astrid bustled over to Henry and Leroy herding them towards the door while whispering, “We should probably give them a moment, and go find Doctor Whale, Belle’s contractions are only a few minutes apart now.”

The three of them slipped out of the room totally unnoticed by the couple on the bed. Rumple and Belle were desperately clinging to each other. She was sweaty and he was travel stained, but neither cared as they hugged each other as tight as possible. 

“You came back.”

“Yes.

“Just in time.”

Rumple eased back enough to stare at Belle’s stomach in wonder, his hand stopped just shy of touching for fear of hurting her.

“Belle. You’re huge,” He cringed, “I’m sorry.”

He’d been back for less than five minutes and already he was saying totally the wrong thing. Belle gave him a smile and chuckled tiredly; “Who would have thought we would have a big baby, hey?”

He had a brief flash of the fake, very tall Morpheus claiming to be their son, but ignored it to return her smile. He wasn’t sure how much Belle knew about what her doppelganger had led him to believe and now, as another contraction gripped Belle, certainly wasn’t the moment to ask. She crushed his hand in hers and screamed; “Where’s that bloody doctor?”

Whale strolled through the door with the sort of dramatic timing that Rumple could have admired under normal circumstances. He calmly snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and smiled at them both.

“Good to see you Rumple. Let’s deliver this baby, shall we?”

Belle swore at him through gritted teeth and clutched Rumple’s hand even tighter. Events became a blur for Rumple; Whale kept issuing instructions, but it was Astrid, who had rushed back into the room after Belle had yelled for her that Belle appeared to be listening to. Rumple was grateful for her presence because he felt useless as he tried to offer Belle support. 

“Okay. One more big push Belle.”

“Almost there Belle, you can do this.”

“Rumple!”

“It’s gonna be alright sweetheart.”

Belle gave a pained grunt as she pushed hard, and then was a new voice in the room, a child’s first cries. Whale declared; “A healthy girl!”

Tears and sweat blurred Rumple’s vision as the little bundle was placed in Belle’s arms. He hurriedly dashed them away and took his first clear look of his new-born daughter and his exhausted, but oh so beautiful wife.

“A girl Rumple, we have a little girl.”

He leaned in closer, his hand reached to cradle the tiny head. Belle whispered; “Little One, this is your Papa.” 

Fresh tears flowed down Rumple’s face and his voice cracked as he said; “Hello Little One.”

He wrapped a protective arm around Belle and his heart soared as she leaned into his touch. He unashamedly sobbed in his joy of this precious moment.


End file.
